We will run into each other

It’s inevitable. This is not a threat; I’m not stalking you … really don’t care if I ever see you again. We ended badly … “Give me my key back.” I did, without a fight … we were already fighting, so what’s the use in a counterpunch when the judges have already called the winner? All those years of youth sports taught me sportsmanship. You hate to lose … I forced your hand, and you demanded the key; your words hanging in the air.

And so I’m moving on … but I have to prepare for the inevitable. It’s not like I can wear a coat in answer to the rain or cold … crossing paths, especially that first time … it’s an interior thing, an emotional thing. So I steel my nerves every night. My gut isn’t happy about the anxiety. My boss doesn’t understand why I come to work blurry eyed and slow from lack of sleep. She asks, “are you even awake yet?” My work, is suffering … and my work is suffering.

I’m not ready to see you. I’m not ready to be seen. Although losing 10 lbs on an already fit body does look good … abs and all that … it’s still winter and what cosmetic benefit our break has had is covered in layers. So, what good is that? I can’t use six pack abs to convince you to call a truce, play it off as a stupid fight, forgive and start again. This grief induced washboard is covered by a button down, a sweater, and a winter coat. God, I wish we had fought in a warmer month … when I could nonchalantly run by your house in no shirt and running shorts. Planning was never one of my strong suits, and you were being impossible.

So I prepare, everyday. I steel my nerves, get angry, get self righteous, do push-ups, more sit-ups, talk myself up in the mirror; and when all of that is finished, and I’m sweating, my pulse up, aerobic … I sit on the ground and weep. I feel ashamed and alone, both for not seeing where that stupid argument was going sooner, and for bowing my neck and not just letting it go. Now I have to let you go. I hate this part. I can do it but I hate it.

I saw you yesterday; you didn’t see me. I didn’t say “hi.”